"So she is a girl, but Roger—well, he is my uncle, but he isn't so very much older than I am. That is—he is twenty-five, and Hildegarde is twenty; so you see it is just exactly right. There isn't anybody like him, either. He is as near an angel as a man can come and be alive; and he is tremendously clever, really eminent already in his profession, and we all love him to distraction."
"Is he handsome?" asked Viola Vincent.
"I don't know; yes, I think he is. Not a barber-shop beauty, though. He is tall, and very strong, broad-shouldered, with the kindest eyes in the world, and a smile that makes you crinkle all over with pleasure. Well, and so they were engaged, and now they are married; the wedding was on Wednesday, and this is Friday, and here I am. Now I'll begin at the very beginning of the day. Of course we woke up early, and looked out of the window; and it was all gray and cloudy. I thought it was going to rain, and I was in the depths, but Bell—you know Bell, my sister, at college—was sure it would clear before seven, and so it did. The sun came out bright and clear, and soon we saw that it was going to be the most beautiful day that ever was. We had been out in the fields all day before, getting flowers, and we had them all ready in tubs and bowls and pitchers; so after breakfast we could go right to work on the decorations. We did the church first. It is a pretty stone church, with a good deep chancel. We filled in the back of the chancel with great ferns—mostly evergreen ferns, so that they would not wilt—and palms and things; and then we made banks and banks of asters and goldenrod,—oh, it was lovely! Most of them came from the camp-pasture, Bertha; you remember how lovely it is in September."
Bertha nodded. "I should think I did!" she said. "Most beautiful place I ever saw, except the rest of it all."
"Well, I never saw it look more beautiful than that day before the wedding, when Bell and the boys and I rode out on our wheels, and came back by moonlight, with great bundles of purple and gold tied on our backs and nodding over our heads. But all the ferns and the asters and chrysanthemums and roses came mostly from Hildegarde's own garden at Braeside, and from Roseholme, Colonel Ferrers's place. We might have carpeted the church entirely with asters, if we had wanted to; as it was, we had great garlands of them twined over the chancel rail and swinging among the ferns and goldenrod; really, I never saw so many flowers at one time in my life. When that was all done we went to the house, Braeside, the Grahames' house, to see if we could help there; but Mrs. Flower, a friend of Hildegarde's, of whom we used to be the least little bit jealous before we knew her, was there, and another friend, Miss Desmond,—she was one of the bridesmaids,—and they had everything so beautifully arranged that there was nothing for us to do but stand and admire it with all our eyes. People in New York had sent down all kinds of splendid flowers, boxes and boxes of them, so that the house was a perfect bower, and smelt like the Vale of Cashmere; but we knew very well that Hilda would like our flowers best. Then—well, a lot more presents had come since the night before, so as there was time enough before dressing, we went in to see them. I don't suppose you care about the presents, girls!"
"Oh! oh! we do!" cried the girls, in chorus. "We want to hear about every single one, Snowy."
"My dears! it would take me all night, and then I couldn't remember them all. But I'll try and tell you some of them. Let me see! Colonel Ferrers gave her a set of sapphires; the most beautiful things you ever saw. Necklace and pendant and pin, most wonderful dark blue stones, set in star-shape. And Jack Ferrers and his father gave her some wonderful Roman gold-work—I don't know how to describe it, I never saw anything like it—that Jack picked up in Europe. Then there was silver, heaps and heaps of it, from relatives in New York and I don't know where; some of it very handsome indeed, but I don't care so much about silver, do you? I remember there were ten salt-cellars, no two alike. But the things we cared for were the small presents that came from people we knew; people who loved Hildegarde, not just because she was their grandniece or something, but because she was herself. Oh, some of them were funny, girls! There were two dear old people who had come a long way to the wedding, a Mr. and Mrs. Hartley, with whom Hilda spent a summer when she was about fifteen, and whom she has been fond of ever since. I should think she would be; the old lady has a face like Raphael's grandmother—I can't think of any other way of describing it; and Mr. Hartley is simply a duck, the dearest funny old man you ever saw. Well, they brought Hilda the most beautiful toilet-set I ever saw or dreamed of,—something wonderful, all blue dragons and gilding. Papa said it was very rare; and Hilda cried when she saw it, and scolded them dreadfully for bringing it away from its own room; but still she was delighted to have it, and says she will never use any other. Then there was young Doctor Chirk,—funny name, isn't it?—Mrs. Flower's brother. Such a nice, bright, jolly fellow! Well, he was part of that same summer, it seems, and he carved a beautiful frame out of wood that grew in Hartley's Glen; and Mrs. Flower, who paints very well, had made a picture of the glen itself—lovely place!—for the frame, or I suppose the frame was made to fit the picture, no matter which; and that filled her with joy.
"Then there were the people from Bywood. My dear, Miss Wealthy Bond is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen, except two. She is just like live Dresden china, smiling and dimpling; and the dear quaint maid who came with her, Martha, had made Hildegarde's whole winter provision of jellies and jams, because 'it wasn't likely Hildegarde would have time herself this first season, and it wasn't a thing you could trust to hired help in general.' Miss Bond herself had brought china—my dear! did you ever see tortoise-shell crockery? Well, it is a most beautiful thing, and the art was lost a hundred years ago, and each piece is worth I don't know how much; but this dear old lady had a dozen plates, all hexagonal, too, and not a single point broken or chipped, and two pitchers,—well, I haven't the heart even to think of those pitchers, I wanted them so,—and they were all for Hilda, because Hilda had brought the sunshine back into her life, she told me.
"Girls, it was the same story everywhere. Mrs. Grahame being so delicate, and Hilda so busy, Bell and I were there a great deal the few days before the wedding, and we took the guests to walk and drive and so on. Everywhere it was the same story, the joy and brightness and love that this one girl had carried with her wherever she went. I never shall forget it—never.
"Then—let me see—what next? Oh! I had nearly forgotten the dear little boy, Benny, Miss Bond's adopted son. He considers Hilda his own private property, and he was furiously jealous of Roger and everybody else. When he first came it was quite sad, really, the child was so unhappy, and there was no consoling him. He wanted Hilda to sing to him and play with him just as she did when she was staying there at Bywood; and naturally she couldn't, poor dear, though it was wonderful how she managed to be with them all a little every day, and to see to almost everything, so that her mother should have no care or worry. Well, where was I? oh! the little boys. Hugh Allen, our Hugh,—I can't stop to tell you about Hugh now, but he is the dearest, queerest little fellow,—Hugh watched all this for awhile, and then he took Benny away with him, down into the garden, and they were gone a long time. And when they came back Benny marched straight up to Roger, and said, 'You are nice! you can have my girl,' and then marched off again, and went and cried, poor lamb, till Hugh comforted him.